


i've let you go once (i will never let go again)

by ET29



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6248218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ET29/pseuds/ET29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three days after Lexa's apparent death, a Conclave following the Grounders' traditions was held to select the next Commander. The dead are gone, and the living are hungry. The new Commander seeks for power and only power, putting talk of peace between the clans and Sky people at stake. Titus blames himself for Lexa's fate, and does what he can to fulfill his promise to Lexa. Clarke struggles to find herself in the midst of a brewing war.</p><p>Clarke is given the key to Lexa and the union happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've let you go once (i will never let go again)

_"The Commander is dead. May her spirit choose wisely."_

_She stared at the bed soaked in blood, confusion and disbelief matched her unsteady breathing. She ignored the repetitive thumps behind her as Murphy tried to force the doors open. All she could see was black painting over the white furs; for one second she thought she was going through a nightmare or maybe she was hallucinating and overthinking._

 

_But she wasn't._

 

_Lexa was dead._

 

THREE DAYS LATER

 

“Today we call upon the Commander of the twelve clans. Ontari kom _Azgeda_ ,” said a voice with a hint of sadness attached to it.

 

Titus turned to a visibly petite figure behind him, who strode complacently across the room towards the ornate timber throne, light reflecting off the scars on her irritable face. She bore a proud smile as she walked up, yet it went unnoticed by the people in the room. As she reached her newly claimed seat, she quickly settled in it before speaking for the first time as the Commander.

 

“Ambassadors of the twelve clans, today is the day I replace Lexa kom _Trikru_ as the leader of the coalition.”

 

With that said, the representatives of their respective clans dropped to one knee as a sign of respect and acceptance of the new Commander. It was evident that they were all intimidated by her; she was cruel and merciless to anyone who dared to initiate disagreements and conflicts. Aden, whom Lexa regarded a better warrior than herself at his age, failed to succeed his teacher as the Commander and lost his life to the last fatal blow during the ultimate duel.

 

“Bury the bodies of the _nightblidas_ that have died in combat. Send armies to Arkadia at dawn.” Her orders were loud and clear.

“Should the people of the Sky announce war against us, we will retaliate.”

“Heda –”

 

Before Titus could continue his debate, he received a fiery glare from Ontari. “Do not forget your place, Titus. You are pardoned because you are needed to protect the flame, if anything should happen to me.” Ontari warned, but her voice was too quiet to be heard; it was as if she wanted no one but the two of them to hear.

 

Titus lowered his head, and decided to take three steps backwards to avoid another unwanted dispute. It was clear that the new Commander made such insolent remarks to remind him of what he had done three days ago. Ontari turned to face the ambassadors of the twelve clans, her chin held high and uttered, “Our tradition shall be honored. _Jus drein jus daun_.”

 

It seemed like at that instant the union was reaffirmed and fortified as their representatives echoed the Commander’s words; their hands curled into fists and repeatedly hit the air above their heads. The roaring chant died out when Ontari raised a hand to create silence in the room once again. A faint knock on the double door attracted most if not all of the occupants of the room.

 

“Enter.”

 

Ontari rose to her feet and moved two steps forward, away from the chair bearing supremacy and sovereignty. The door pushed open to a young woman with dry untidy blonde hair tied in simple braids. The clothes she wore were scruffy and stained with blood which appeared to be black and murky. Dirt lied just above her chin, and the cut on the right side of her forehead still seemed raw and bloody as the scab that formed above it had been opened. She walked into the room and halted just over ten feet from Ontari, who studied the features of the unexpected guest and pondered her possible desires. Her presence drew whispers from all ambassadors, but she gave no attention to any of them.

 

“Wanheda. What brings you to the capital?” Worry found itself blended in Titus’ voice, who was clearly surprised to see Clarke in Polis.

“I’m here to speak with the Commander.”

 

That was the first time since Lexa’s death she let the title roll off the tip of her tongue. It ached, but she tried her best not to show it. To be using that single word as a reference to another person other than Lexa just felt so _wrong_.

 

“Leave us.”

 

The ambassadors merely nodded and complied with Ontari’s orders, but not one left the throne room without stealing glances at Clarke. She could hear their small talks in Trigedasleng as they made their way out, presumably about her intimate relationship with the previous Commander. Soon the ones left in the room were Ontari and Clarke.

 

“The last time we met, the circumstances were rather unpleasant.” Ontari recalled.

 

Just about two weeks ago, Clarke had tried to poison the Ice Queen on her visit, only to be exposed by the nightblood Nia had hidden from the whole Grounder inhabitants. Clarke looked blankly inscrutable for a few moments, triggering a raise of an eyebrow from Ontari.

 

“What is your purpose here, Clarke of Sky People?”

“I want peace for both our people.” No other statements sounded as certain as hers.

 

Ontari held her stare at the leader of Sky People two seconds longer before releasing a mocking laugh. Clarke was about to throw a punch at her, but she knew better than to show such inferior actions. Ontari was nothing like Lexa. It was clear Ontari craved for power, while Lexa desired peace for her people.

 

“Our people? I have no intention on recruiting _Skaikru_ into my coalition. Lexa made an attempt in hers, and it failed. She failed.” Ontari stepped forward, allowing a distance of three feet between them before continuing, “Lexa spared the Sky people because she cared for you. Her feelings for you brought death upon her. She was weak.”

 

Ontari’s words rang in Clarke’s ears so loud she could lose her hearing any second. Those words stirred anger in her and she no longer felt the need to hide her emotions; Clarke’s hands swung away from her sides and grabbed Ontari by the neck, threatening to choke her if she spoke again of Lexa.

 

“She was anything but weak,” said Clarke through her gritted teeth, her voice as sharp as razor.

 

There was a rapid rise in her heartbeat and soon enough, her facial expression began to betray her. She felt her eyelids twitch and she started to blink ever so often. Deep inside, she _feared_ Clarke. Not Clarke of the Sky, but the Commander of Death. She took down the Mountain men, enemies of the grounders for decades, with a pull of a lever, irradiating them to their deaths. Yet, Ontari successfully tugged a pretentious smile on her face to mask her consternation.

 

“Do you think I will hesitate to kill you, Wanheda? You are only living because I allow you to, for now.” Ontari clutched both Clarke’s wrists which were starting to interrupt the flow of air in her windpipe, and pulled them away roughly, causing Clarke to stumble a step back.

 

Ontari moved forth and grabbed Clarke by the loose fabric of her top, and said, “Unless you can offer me a better deal, prepare yourselves for a war your people chose to have.”

 

Clarke’s whole body tensed with rage; there was no longer room for pragmatism and patience. Ontari released her grip, and dismissed Clarke by commanding the two guards patrolling outside the room to have her escorted out of Polis. As she reached the exit, with her back facing Clarke she said, “I am doing what Lexa was too weak to do.”

 

* * *

 

 

And there she was standing outside of Polis; gazing at the enormous wrought-iron gates built essentially to protect the residents of the capital from enemies and intruders. The sky above her was a lighter shade of blue, with clouds overlapping each other and blocking out rays of sunlight.

Sorrow and regret found themselves in Clarke’s eyes; the pain of losing Lexa still lingered beneath her skin, like needles pricking every inch of her flesh. She wasn’t willing to let it go; the image of Lexa being struck by a bullet in the stomach that was never meant for her was fresh in her mind. _The next Commander will protect you_. She only wanted Lexa, was it too much to ask for? _You were right Clarke; life is about more than just surviving._ She could only see the green in Lexa’s eyes slowly losing light, losing life as each second that passed took away the remaining oxygen left in her lungs. Yet, Lexa’s lips managed to curve into the slightest of a smile because the love of her life was by her side when she let out her final breath. Tears were beginning to form behind her eyes, so she tried to shut her melancholy thoughts before they reached a point of no return.

As she was about to depart, a gruff voice called from behind.

 

“Clarke.”

 

It was Titus; the one who aimed the deadly weapon at Clarke and pulled the trigger, wounding Lexa instead. But, he was also one who would do anything to protect the previous Commander. Clarke knew this, but she was too angry to see any good in him. _If he hadn’t tried to kill me, none of this would have happened_. The sight of him caused her stomach to lurch inwards, but inside she was too tired to fight this right now. Lexa was dead and nothing was going to bring her back.

 

“What do you want, Titus?” Her eyebrows furrowed, frowning as he walked closer.

“Make your way to the cabin. It is three miles south of Polis, and hidden from plain sight. Search for the tallest tree in that area and you will find it. This shall guide you there.”

 

Titus scanned around carefully to ensure they were alone before removing a small scroll from his sleeve, which was revealed to be a map. It looked at least a decade old; the sides were jagged, seemingly torn off from a gigantic book; possibly a personalized atlas. Although the ink had slightly faded, most of the contents of the map could still be scrutinized. The outlines were so precise and drawn in such a complex way, as if it was intended to only be understood by intelligent people.

 

“What is this?” Clarke asked in a deep menacing voice which vaguely carried curiosity.

“Follow it and your questions will be answered. _Please_.”

 

The fact that Titus put strong emphasis on the word ‘please’ puzzled Clarke. Yes, he was begging, but not for forgiveness. He was begging for something more than forgiveness, and the remorse and sincerity rising in his eyes prompted her to accept the item.

 

“And what will I find there?”

Titus hesitated for a moment, “Peace of mind.”

 

More questions appeared and swam around Clarke’s head, but it was that moment too she decided she needed to unveil the answers by herself. Titus gave a nod of respect (which surprised Clarke) and headed back to the city, which was once thunderous and filled with exuberance and life before news of the previous Commander’s death spread like wildfire and saddened the whole population of Polis. _Peace of mind_ , those words replayed in her head like a broken record. Maybe she needed to know what this meant to find a closure.

 

After about an hour on foot, she decided she had finally reached the destination which was marked ‘X’ on the map. She let her eyes run wild, eager to find that one tree of hope and conceivably of answers as well. Except; she was in the middle of a green expanse of the forest where all trees were almost of the same height and size. _What the hell, Titus_. She cursed in silence, _maybe I read the map wrong_. Clarke considered tracing her route back to Polis, but that would only waste the time she could be using to plan Arkadia’s actions when Ontari’s armies attack.

 

A croaking noise snapped Clarke out of her thoughts.

 

One of her senses told her to run as fast as she could, in case a grounder showed up the next second with a dagger against her throat, if she was lucky. A spear through her heart could easily knock her down though; after all, the land she was standing on belonged to the grounders. Clarke crouched down and hid behind the nearest bushes where she assumed she would not be seen and killed immediately. Slowly, she reached out for the dagger in her back pocket to ready herself for an instant stand-and-kill move. Steady and quiet yet audible footsteps approached her from behind, and she was set to take him down. Her blood rushed in and out of her heart chambers, sending a bolt of adrenaline up her spine like lightning. It was the perfect time for her to strike. In a matter of seconds, she got up from her previous position and raised her hand swiftly with the dagger in it, about to stab whoever it was in the chest. Air was escaping her lungs so rapidly, and before she knew it, a pair of strong hands withheld her arm and resisted any further movement.

 

“Clarke!” A gasp that sounded like a cry trailed behind a familiar voice in Clarke’s memory.

 

Clarke froze at the mention of her name for a few seconds before she let her attention dart away from her dagger; she recognized the long slender fingers that were holding her wrist with manageable force. She recognized this soft yet compelling voice coming from the person right in front of her. _It can’t be_. Finally, deep mesmerizing green eyes met her innocent blue ones and it felt like time had stopped moving forward for the first time in a long while. They were unequivocally the eyes which told personal stories and unfolded the meaning of love. They were the same eyes which pledged her fealty, guaranteed her security and welcomed her home. Suddenly, Clarke felt weak in the bones and naturally her grip loosened, causing the dagger she was holding so tightly to fall to the ground. _It is you_.

 

“Lexa?” Clarke swallowed hard, still trying to process bit by bit of what she had witnessed before her. She stood there, rigid and unmoving.

“It’s me, Clarke.” Lexa’s vision was clouded with tears which fell freely without permission nor obstruction. Her trembling lips found some composure when they curled into a smile and _oh_ it was so, _so_ beautiful.

“H – How?” Clarke faltered, unsure of what to believe and what not. It took her seconds to realize that that question didn’t matter at all. _She is here. Lexa is right here_.

 

Before Lexa could say another word, the other girl leaned in and embraced her tightly, sending the warmth and affection she had missed dearly and thought she would never experience ever again. Instinctively she held out her arms and clasp around the other’s waist, hoping to give her the comfort she knew she needed. Clarke, on the other hand, was still in incredulity; she could feel Lexa’s heart beating against hers but she didn’t want to hold her hopes high when they could fall and shatter into millions of pieces in a blink of an eye. This one precious moment reeled in still vivid memories from their first harsh encounter in Lexa’s tent to their heartbreaking last goodbye in Polis. Lexa buried her face in Clarke’s neck, giving her a tender kiss there to assure her that she was real.

 

“I vowed to treat your needs as mine, Clarke,” Lexa whispered against her ear, her voice cracking but her heart contented.

 

 _I need you_. Clarke remembered.

 

Tears of relief ran down Clarke’s red cheeks, washing away all the pain and guilt she never noticed she had been holding in. A genuine smile gradually formed on her face; her heart was no longer hurting. Being able to hear those words and rediscover solace made Clarke pull her even closer, and this time she swore to never let Lexa slip away again.


End file.
